


Cure My Tragedy

by Destany_Mitchell



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Gen, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 04, Season/Series 04, Spoilers, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 20:58:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18902524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destany_Mitchell/pseuds/Destany_Mitchell
Summary: Titled after a song by Cold, this fic is post season 4, Chloe's POV.  See chapter notes for more.  I'm trying to be considerate to those who may not have had the time to finish yet.This can stand alone but kind of fits into my head cannon established in Black Sunday and Standing at the Edge of the Earth.





	Cure My Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly me, working through my feels on season 4 through Chloe processing Lucifer's absence and learning to move on, as well as maybe providing some hope for the future. I've had three different people tell me I gutted them just as thoroughly reading this so I apologize in advance. I also recommend listening to the song. It's beautiful and fits very well. 
> 
> This fic closes a loop for me on my feels post season 4 so it can be thought of a continuation from Black Sunday and Standing at the Edge of the Earth but all three stand alone. However, Maze's presence in this one is almost predicated on my head cannon established in Black Sunday. 
> 
> Also, I have to say, I met the cast this weekend at Motor City Comic Con (well....Tom, Leslie, and DB) and they are just the best. We need more Lucifer.

It took her three days to breathe without sobbing. 

It took her a week to force herself back to work.

She couldn't hear his name without crying.  She can't breathe without feeling like her heart was being torn from her chest. 

It _hurt_. 

She still expected to look up and see him approach.  She heard his voice in her head.  She could almost _hear_ his snarky comments in response to someone else's stupidity.  Every time, it filled her with a sense of pure hope that it only crushed her soul when reality hit.

He was _gone._

She had no idea how she was going to get through this. 

It was _her_ fault.

But she had to. 

Thank God (or maybe not God) for Dan because she didn't know what she would do if she had to answer Trixie's questions and those thoughts made her feel worse.  What kind of mother was thankful their child wasn't around?  And with those moments, another piece of her died, crumbled and shattered into something so unrecognizable, she had no clue how she'd put herself back together again.

But life went on and she had to move with it.  The LAPD had put out a BOLO for the missing club owner.  Everyone told her they'd find him.  Officers she didn't even know came up to her, hugged her, and offered words of support.  Officers that never gave her the time of day after Palmello and before Lucifer.  For anyone else, they might have found it helpful - to have the support of the entire precinct.  To know that every uniform, detective, evidence tech, secretary, and even the freaking janitor was keeping an eye out for the missing consultant.  But they always left with a vow that they'd get 'whoever did this' and it took everything she had not to scream at them.  To tell them they couldn't find "them".  There was no "them" to be had.  And even if there was, the person they'd need to catch, to hold responsible, the LAPD would never be able to get retribution from because _they_ was fucking God and she just ... she _needed_ him to breathe and he wasn't there - couldn't be there because apparently, them being together meant the end of the world.

And wasn't that a kicker?

It took just over a week for her to get pissed.

And she hated her anger made her fall to her knees and sob just as hard as the heartbreak.  And with her anger, yet another piece of her shattered and crumbled into dust.   

Amenadiel tried his "peace be with you" angel powers to calm her, to help her move past the pain and heartache, but it hadn't helped.  It always made her feel worse.  The angel had been baffled, so sure that "God's Grace" was the answer to helping her heal and gather the strength to move on.  How ironic was it that the only thing that could truly bring her peace was in Hell?

And with her rage, it took her a week and a day to storm into Amenadiel and Linda's apartment and demand answers.  She wouldn't get them from God himself so she'd go to the next best thing she had.  She'd rage and scream if she needed to, but she needed answers.  She needed to know _why_. 

"He left Hell before," she had reasoned, eyes pleading with Amenadiel to fix this.  He _should_ fix this.  But he hadn't needed words to tell her what his thoughts on that were.  The look of sympathy he gave her almost made her take out her gun and shoot him.  She didn't need sympathy.  Or pity.  She had enough of that from the precinct.  What she needed was knowledge of all things celestial and divine.  She needed to understand the rules.  She needed to know them inside and out so she could break them.  And how ironic was that?  By-the-Book Decker ready to throw it all out the window.   

What she didn't understand was why it ok before but not now?  How could he come and go from Hell before?  It wouldn't be ideal ... him needing to come and go but couples had long distance relationships.  They traveled for work and family.  She could do this.  _They_ could do this, if only they were given a chance.

But Amenadiel only gave her those sympathetic looks and a soft "God has a plan" and she barely resisted the urge to shoot him.  She wanted to rage.  She wanted to break down and beg him to do something ... anything.  And then Linda came out, shushing baby Charlie and she couldn't ... she had to leave.  But not before telling him he was the worst brother ever.  

 

 

It took her two weeks to go to Lux.  It took her three hours of sitting in the parking garage, staring at the entrance before she could stop shaking and get out of the car.  And as she had moved, her legs had never felt weaker when she went through the front doors.  It was daytime, nonessential lights were off.  There was a clicking behind the bar and she ignored it as she moved through, the club.  She just had to make it to the elevator.  She needed to ... she just needed ...

She remembered pushing the button and the next thing she knew, she couldn't see through the tears, her legs no longer holding her weight and a pair of arms around her (not Lucifer's) and soft male voice muttering "It's ok.  We miss him too."

She remembered her chest feeling tight.  She remembered sobbing so hard she couldn't _breathe_.  She remembered the voice, the wrong male voice, speaking soothing words to her, encouraging her to breathe, to let it out.  She remembered thinking that this was it, this was when she broke, on the floor of Lux, inches from the elevator, her heart bleeding around her and her soul shattered into something unrecognizable.

She was broken.  

She doesn't know how she managed to breathe again.  She doesn't remember how she ended up with a handkerchief in her hand or seated in one of the booths.  She doesn't remember clearing her eyes, but she could see (if a bit blurry).  She remembers the voice encouraging her, muttering something to someone else ... words she either didn't hear or couldn't process.  She remembered her eyes still burned, her nose was running and she was certain that her face was stained with snot and tears.  And it still hurt to breathe. Each breathe felt like a struggle.

In.

Out.

In.

She barely registered how the glass of water ended up in her hands, but she remembers taking shaky sips from it, nearly choking on the first one as another's hand helped her to keep it steady. 

"T-th-thank you," She managed to sputter out, her words as shaky as the rest of her and she heard a sympathetic noise from somewhere next to her.  A hand squeezed her shoulder and rubbed her arm for a moment before she looked over and registered the person with her this whole time had been Lucifer's day manager and she hated herself that she couldn't remember his name.  She should have known it, for all the time that she spent here. 

"We take care of family here," He told her softly, nodding to the glass in her hand and she took another shaky sip, the water helping with the nerves.  "It's something the Boss always made time for and we'd be damned to let one of _his_ down in his absence."

Chloe found herself nodding with the words, something warm spreading through her and vaguely comforting.  It wasn't enough to pull herself together, to repair what has been broken, but it helped for now.

"I don't even know what happened," She rasped out, wincing at the rawness of her voice and took another drink from the tumbler in her hand.

"I think you had a panic attack," He told her and she sniffed, looking away, hating herself for being so weak.  "Take all the time you need," He added.  He hesitated as he studied her, "Do you want me to call someone for you?"

She shook her head, sniffing in response and took a deep, shaky breathe before letting it out.

"N-no.  I'm ... I'm okay."  She managed to get out, unable to look him in the eyes as she tried to pull herself together. 

"Do you want me to stay with you or ..."

"No...I just ... I need to pull myself together.  Thank you," Chloe managed to say and he gave her a small smile before getting up from the booth. 

"You're one of us, Detective Decker." He stated simply, as if that was all there was to say.  "We take care of our family.  Feel free to stay as long as you like and holler if you need anything, ok?"

She nodded her understanding and she was left alone in the booth, staring into the glass of water in her hands, water sloshing slightly as her hands continued to tremble.  She turned her eyes away from the water and over to the elevator, feeling tears burn her eyes as she looked at it, the tremors in her hands increasing slightly as her chest got tight.

She forced herself to look away, panting slightly and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push down the emotions and get control of herself. She couldn't do this.  Not yet.

 

 

It took her a month and two breakdowns in the elevator to make it into the penthouse.

This time, she didn't feel anything.  She was numb to it all, so use to the pain and the heartache and the crushed soul that she didn't know if she could feel anything at this point. 

She didn't remember how she got here.  She didn't remember _deciding_ to come here but here she was...standing on his balcony, overlooking the City with tears running down her face.  Being here _hurt_.  The penthouse looked just like he had left it.  As if he'd step out of the elevator any second, all "Detective" and innuendo and how the thought made her choke out a sound that was something between a laugh and a sob.

She _ached_ with how much she missed him and she couldn't imagine that it'd ever get better.  How could it get better?  He was gone because he _loved_ her. 

"How can you punish him for loving me?!" She yelled out into the nothingness, part of her felt stupid, another part of her felt a good for finally letting go of her rage.  "What was the point of making me if it was for this?!" She demanded and shook her head, disgusted over the lack of response and knowledge that she'd never get one.   

Two days ago, Amenadiel had told her she was a miracle.  That she had been created by God for Lucifer. She remembered feeling disgusted with herself.  With God.  With Amenadiel and everyone.  Some "miracle" she was.  She helped bring about the apocalypse.  Was that really what God had intended? Amenadiel had tried to reassure her.  He must have read the emotions on her face and knew he hadn't meant to tell her.  It had been a slip of the tongue when he'd called her a miracle and his face had gone pale almost immediately after.  She had interrogated him about it until he had told her the truth.  And with that revelation, she was sure another part of herself died.  But she barely felt it.  She was already less than whole. 

"What kind of parent does that to their child?!" She yelled, shaking her head.  If that was how God was ... she'd gladly choose Hell when the time came.  She wanted to yell more, to rage but she knew it was pointless.  That God wasn't listening.  He probably never did.  He definitely hasn't been listening to her for the last month.  She scoffed, and sent up a scathing look to the Heavens above and turned her back and walked back into the penthouse, closing the doors behind her.

She leaned against the doors, and just ... took it in.  She knew at some point, someone would clear this place out.  That any furniture that would remain would be covered with linens to protect them from dust and dirt.  But for now ... her feet moved of their own accord, her fingers trailing along the piano, a couple keys clanking a disjointed melody as she moved into his bedroom. 

Part of her felt like she shouldn't do this that she shouldn't be taking advantage of his absence to ... to snoop but she just ... she needed ... her eyes landed on something white and she moved before she processed it.  The material was in her hands and she was breathing in his scent and the ache that had been with her for the last month lessened just a little. 

Before she knew what she was doing, the shirt was over hers and she was crawling onto his bed.  She breathed in the pillows, a sob escaping her.  She hugged the pillow, face buried in it as she burned his scent into her nostrils, as she committed it to memory because eventually ... it wouldn't be here anymore and she gave in, breaking down once more with his presence surrounding her.

She didn't know how she was going to do this.  To move on without leaving a piece of herself empty and living less than whole.  Linda had suggested praying to him weeks ago, not too long after Amenadiel's 'peace be with you' shtick had failed.  Linda had thought praying to him might be therapeutic for her.  Chloe remembered asking Amenadiel if he'd hear it and the angel's response hadn't been encouraging.  She hadn't tried before, she hadn't seen the point if he couldn't actually hear her, but she _needed_ him to know.  She needed him to know that she hadn't forgotten him.  That she wouldn't give up.  That she _missed_ him.  That she loved him and would never stop.  He needed to know as much as she needed to tell him.

She had no fucking clue how to pray.  She hadn't grown up religious.  She'd been to church at the mandatory times but before this? Before _him_?  She hadn't believed in God or Angels.  The world was too chaotic for there to have been an ultimate creator.  She hadn't learned how to pray and she had no idea if she was doing it right but she'd do it.  She'd tell him everything she needed to tell him.  She'd thank him for being in her life, for making her better.  How she'd fix this because she couldn't let this be the end.  There had to be a way.  She had to have hope because if she didn't ... she didn't know how she'd ever breathe again.

She didn't remember falling asleep but she dreamed.  She dreamed he was with her.  That everything was the way it should have been.  He was laughing at something, that laugh he had that light up everything around him.  His real, genuine laugh, that made you smile even when you didn't want to.  His smile was infectious.  Everything about him was so ... and before she could reach out and touch his cheek, the dream changed and she was in Rome.  At the Vatican library, looking at a book and Father Kinley droning on behind her.  She was staring at words that were not in English, some ancient language that was nothing but swirls and glyphs, but the pictures ... those she could understand what the author was trying to say. 

She woke up and found herself in the bathroom, heaving into his polished toilet.  Tears burned her eyes as her stomach contents ended and she was forced to dry heave, occasionally spitting out bile that burned her throat and nose. 

She hated herself for her time in Rome.  For letting Father Kinley poison her mind.  For entertaining that Lucifer would ever hurt her ... hurt mankind.  That he _wanted_ to damn them all.  That he was manipulating her.  She'd never forgive herself for giving into the stories he'd always told her were wrong.  Why hadn't she realized ... she should never have pushed him away and into Eve's manipulative arms.  If she hadn't ... maybe he never would have hated himself so much he turned into the monster everyone else said he was.  She'd never forgive herself for doing that to him. 

She wiped her mouth with toilet paper, her breathes coming out in harsh pants as she fought to get her stomach under control.  She tossed the wad into the toilet and flushed, grimacing at the nasty taste in her mouth.  She mentally apologized to him as she rummaged through his cabinets and found a toothbrush and toothpaste (probably his) and brushed her teeth, getting rid of the bile in her mouth. 

As she scrubbed, she stepped out and into the main room, studying his apartment, her eyes landing on his books.  She stared at them for a long moment and hurried back to the bathroom to rid herself of the toothpaste before moving back to the books, fingers brushing against the old books, frowning as she studied them. 

Most of them were old.  Probably older than she could ever imagine.  Probably as old as some of the books in the Vatican.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was pulling books off their shelves, scanning the spines, covers, and pages, tossing the novels behind her and setting aside the ones that looked more religious in nature into a pile to look over closer. 

She didn't know how long she was going through his books, scanning, searching, using a ladder to reach the ones she couldn't get to when she heard footsteps echoing behind her.  She turned and almost lost her footing on the ladder as her eyes landed on Maze who was taking in the mess before landing on her.

"Decker." The Demon stated, moving as if the apartment was littered with snakes and not books.  Well ... Maze would probably kneel down and cuddle the snakes.  Fluffy bunnies might scare her off though. 

"Maze." Chloe managed to say before turning her attention back to the book she was holding, flipping through the pages, the words in some language she'd never seen before and tossed it aside, frustration over coming her.

"Why can't old books be in English?" She asked in frustration as she reached for the next one, tossing it aside as soon as she realized the language was unidentifiable before reaching for another.

"Whatcha doing?" Maze asked, her voice soft, as if talking to a spooked animal as she stepped carefully around the books to move closer to her, her steps slow and careful, gate measured and her eyes never left Chloe, as if expecting her to attack at any moment.

"It has to be here," Chloe said as she recognized the book she was holding as Hamlet and tossed it aside for the next. 

"What?" Maze asked, picking up one of the books, studying the title before fixing some bent and rumpled pages and setting it aside. "Maybe I can help,"

"It just...there has to be..." Chloe could feel her chest constricting.  Her vision blurred and she angrily brushed away the tears before flipping through the book in her hands.

"Decker..."

"He wouldn't ... he wouldn't just ... "

"Decker," Maze said again, her voice soft, as she finally stood at the foot of the ladder, her eyes studying her with something like sympathy and she couldn't stand it.  She couldn't stand any more sympathy and sympathy from _Maze_ of all pe-demons was just ... it was just too much.  

"Don't Maze.  Not you too," She said as a sob escaped her throat and she dropped the book she was holding, needing to use both hands to keep steady on the ladder as her body shook with the force of it.

"If I know anything, Decker, it's that he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself," Maze stated, her voice soft and sympathetic, one hand going up and resting on her back.  "Now, come down before I force you down," her voice firmer and no nonsense. 

A half sob, half laugh noise escaped her as she slowly move down the ladder.  As soon as both feet were on the ground, she would have fallen had it not been for Maze holding her up.  She hated herself that she couldn't keep it together.  That as soon as Maze had broken her from her haze, she had fallen apart again.  She had been numb for hours.  She hadn't hurt and it was almost like it was before.  But that was over now. She _hurt_ and _ached_ and it felt like her soul was ripped in half again.  That her spirit was being torn to shreds with every breath and she sobbed so hard she thought her body would break if it weren't for Maze keeping her together. 

Maze deposited her on the couch and left her there.  She had curled into it, sobbing into the soft leather, knowing he'd complain about needing to get it cleaned but she couldn't stop.  She missed him so damn much. 

She could hear footsteps and the sound of a glass being set on the table across from her.  She opened her blurry eyes to stare at the tumbler at the same time as the couch dipped next to her, and Maze settled in.  She reached out with shaking hands and grabbed the glass.  She forced herself to sit up and take a drink, the sharp taste of alcohol pulling her from her grief.  She coughed around the burn and took another drink of who knows what.    

"Better?" Maze asked and she shook her head. It would never be better. "Decker ..."

"I just ... I spent a month.  In Rome.  In the Vatican library with Father Kinley," She stated, sniffling past the tears that still ran down her face. "There was so much there...so much that I didn't ... Maze, what if ... what if there was a way w-we could..."

"You can't, Decker." Maze said, her eyes hard as she stared at her.

" _Why_?"

Maze sighed, downed the rest of her glass and set the glass down.  She moved off the couch and onto the table, facing her.  She stared directly into her eyes, her face fierce and Chloe knew if she didn't listen, if she fought her, Maze would _fight her_.

"When he originally abdicated, Hell was his.  No one, not even his siblings, not even me, believed he ever meant for this to be permanent.  It wasn't the first time he'd lived topside.  It wouldn't have been the last, either.  For all his snark, for all that he rebelled against his father, for some reason, he always had a soft spot for _humans_."

"But-"

"Just, hear me out, Decker."

"Why didn't Amenadiel-"

"Because Amenadiel wasn't _there_." Maze snarled.  "He doesn't know his brother as well as he thinks he does.  He doesn't _understand_ why Lucifer hates their father and nearly all of his siblings.  He would _never_ understand why he chose to change his name after the Fall.  He doesn't and wouldn't, _understand_ why the demons of hell chose _now_ to make their move.  He wouldn't understand just what they would or _could_ do, even with their King lording over them.  He couldn't know.  He could _never_ understand."

Maze paused, letting her words sink in.  Letting Chloe come to terms to the fact that Amenadiel would never have the answers she wanted.  How truly _alone_ Lucifer was.  How his family would never be family in the sense that she understood it to mean.  And her heart broke for him more than it already had.  Maze must have seen the acceptance in her eyes because she shifted slightly and her posture relaxed.  It was at that moment that Chloe realized she had been prepared to strike and the thought was chilling.

"I wouldn't hurt you Decker.  I would never want to and, even if I did, I know he'd rip me apart before he ever entertained the thought of killing me.  But Decker, you need to understand, you need to let him do this."

"Maze --"

"Just .... just listen, ok?" Maze said and Chloe found herself nodding.  "Demons are not what you would think.  Like Angels, we exist for a purpose.  Our purpose? To punish the guilty.  To punish those that God deems unworthy.  We had no oversight.  No leadership.  We cannot rule ourselves because our very nature would result in a massacre.  God made it so no demon could ever rule Hell.  Only an Angel can and we're programmed to accept it." She paused, allowing Chloe a moment to let that sink in before continuing.  "As far as I know, Lucifer has been the only Angel to ever rule over Hell.  It's all we've ever known.  There are few, like my mother, Lilith, who remember the times before Lucifer but even that ... there isn't much known about that time.  _I_ only have vague memories of that time myself.  But life after him?  We all remember that and it's been better.  When Lucifer left Hell, it was the first time in eons that Demons would have been left to their own accord.  And they were use to his absences.  They would have assumed he was returning.  Until they got a message ... until they were told to break a rule forced onto them centuries ago to help their King.  And they learn he's abdicated, directly from him.  Lucifer would have made it clear that he doesn't want to rule them because he never did.  He would have made it clear that he's done because he was.  And with that, they develop a plan ... because they _need_ a leader.  Because without one, even they realize, they'd eventually cease to exist.  And they realize, they can _make_ their own King.  They can mold someone into their own design.  Have someone who maybe isn't as controlling.  Someone who doesn't have a soft spot for humanity and looks down on the Lilim.  Someone who lets them do what they _want_.  How tempting would that be?  It would be like letting Trixie run her school."

Chloe couldn't suppress the shiver that came over her at the picture that Maze gave her.  She felt a lump in her throat and fear washed over her.  Not for her.  For Lucifer.  If what Maze was saying was true ...

"There could be an uprising."

Maze nodded.

"Lucifer won't let Dromos go unpunished.  He, and the rest of his followers, have probably already been made an example of but there could be others."

Silence stretched between them for a moment and Chloe let Maze's words sink in.  To really think on them.

"And he's alone." Chloe whispered, shaking her head, tears stinging her eyes as she processed what life in Hell could be like right now. 

"He wanted it that way," Maze stated, reaching forward to squeeze her hands.  "Decker, I'm not telling you to stop because it's pointless.  I'm telling you that you need to be smart about this,"

"Maze-"

"There are ways that you can summon the Devil.  You implied you may have found some of those ways in Rome and you thought Lucifer would have something like that just ... lying around his home?" Maze laughed at that and shook her head.  "Decker, what you are missing is, those summonings?  You'd be calling him forth to do _your_ bidding.  He wouldn't be _Lucifer_ , not the Lucifer you know, anyway.  He'd be here solely to fulfill your desires and while he probably wouldn't totally hate you for it, you'd be taking away his freewill."

Chloe felt something cold wash over her at Maze's words and her stomach churned at the thought.  She'd be no worse than a rapist if she did that. 

"I-I di-din't know." Chloe managed to stammer out and Maze nodded once in acknowledgement. 

"I know you didn't.  That's why I told you," Maze stated and she gave Chloe's hands a squeeze before pulling away.  "It's not all hopeless, but leaving Hell? It's not _easy_.  And there's always time differentials.  We just ... we have to be smart, ok?"

"You're going to help me?"

"I don't like this anymore than you do," Maze stated, a snarl coming across her face. "But I need to be here so he can focus on what he needs to do down there. It was my choice, but it doesn't mean I like it."

Chloe nodded and sniffed, tears stinging her eyes as she absorbed everything that Maze had told her. 

"What do we do, Maze?" She whispered, feeling that _ache_ again, the one that felt like half her soul was gone.  Maze got up from her perch on the table, and walked away.  Chloe didn't turn to watch her, but she could hear her steps stop near the bar.  She could hear the sound of liquor being poured.  She could hear movement behind her and she wanted to close her eyes, pretend those movements were his but they weren't.  The creak of leather was different from the soft whispers of his designer suits.  The echoing clomp of heels hitting the floor were too loud to be his footfalls.  It was wrong and she longed for him.  For his presence.

"We research. We wait.  We _live_. And we trust him to do his thing until we can bring him home." Maze answered from across the room.

Chloe let out a shaky breath that she didn't know she was holding, and sniffed.

"I-I don't know if I can," Tears burned her eyes as soon as those words were spoken.

"Then you do it for _him_." Maze snarled.  "And you do it for Trixie."

Chloe sniffed in response and nodded.  She felt tears burn her eyes again and Maze sighed before moving her way over to the mess of books and started to straighten them up.  Chloe stayed where she was for a moment, trying to get her emotions under control.  To gather her strength and her resolve.  She could do this.  She could be strong and she would see him again ... even if it mean waiting until the end of her life and she hoped it wasn't that long.  She didn't know if she could live with this ache for another 30+ years. She sniffed again, and wiped her eyes with her (his) sleeve before getting up and helping Maze to clean up her mess.

They worked in silence, Chloe occasionally stopping to caress a tome, to look it over and think on why he'd have it in his collection before making sure the pages were pressed flat before placing it back on the shelf.  As she worked, she found herself talking to him.

_Dear Lucifer, I don't know if you can hear this_ ,

She laughed as she examined the copy of 50 Shades of Grey she hadn't noticed earlier before handing it to Maze who rolled her eyes. 

"I don't know why he has this," The demon stated, crinkling her nose in disgust before placing it on the shelf next to something written by Julius Caesar (or so Maze told her) and moving to grab the next one.

_But I want you to know that I'm not giving up._

She made a reach for the next one, a leatherbound tome with nothing on the spine or cover.  She stroked the soft leather, imagining him doing the same.

_I hope that you're ok.  That things in Hell are not too ... hellish._

She studied the book, not really knowing why before handing it off to Maze and scooted over to reach for the next one.

_I love you.  I miss you and I want you know that I will find a way for us to be together again._

They worked methodically, fixing bent pages, and broken spines and placing the books back neatly on the shelves.  It was mind numbing work, but it was what Chloe needed to get herself together.  When their work was done, Chloe surveyed the apartment, everything more or less back in place, and she felt that ache in her chest again, one that she knew wouldn't go away until she got him back.  But she'd live.  She's learn to breathe through the pain and she'd do what she does best.  She's a Detective and she has a case to solve. 

The most important case she'll ever have.

How to get the Devil back to her. 

She has the highest closure rate in the LAPD.  Her coworkers think she's relentless and obsessive.  And she was going to use everything she had to solve this one.  As she followed Maze into the elevator, she knew she wasn't alone.  She had the best demon bounty hunter on Hell and Earth to help her.

Just let _them_ stand in their way.    

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcome. Feedback is a drug and I'm addicted to it, lol. Also, I'm sorry 3,000 for this.


End file.
